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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307973">C137-Folgercest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick'>Left_Handed_Rick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Starry AU Ricksmas Collection [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Folgers "Home for the Holidays" Commercial, Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adult Morty Smith, Bad Coffee, Bottom Rick, Clothed Sex, Coffee Kink, Comdey, Exhibitionism, Festive Family Drama, Folgercest, GILF, Holiday Drugs, Holiday Substance Abuse, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Ricksmas special, Scat, Tastes like Shit, Voyeurism, coffee shits, schwiftpost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:15:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That Folgers commercial, but Rick and Morty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Starry AU Ricksmas Collection [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rick and Morty Secret Santa 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>C137-Folgercest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><strong>A/N:</strong> Merry Ricksmas, Rick and Morty fandom! This is an extra-awkward remix of an <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhfcWTZeP1k"> already awkward instant classic. </a> This fic goes out to all the readers in the Fandom who didn't exactly have the "traditional holiday experience" in their household, but maybe had traditions, nonetheless.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <iframe></iframe>
</p><p> </p><p><em>"</em> <em>Hey, Grandpa Rick. I don’t know if you’ll get this message. I’m not even really sure how this device works. But if you can hear me. Please…”</em></p><p> </p><p>❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“...Please come home for Christmas this year."</em>
</p><p>The brightest burning star in the Milky May, Rick remembered, was as unextraordinary as the still-burning memory of his grandson.</p><p>Time and gravity had always been the two variables capable of distorting Ricks's perception of reality, and plunging toward Earth's surface in the tail-spinning tin-can body of his ship, the gravitational and timekeeping significance of the planet's gently-curving horizon reminded Rick of what made him human. When the Earth rotated its body into the sun, they called it<em> sunrise. </em></p><p>Rick spun out into whatever conceptual new beginning he could find, with whatever time remained in the linear progression of his existence.</p><p>A combination of cosmic apotheosis, drowsiness, and drugs, Rick Sanchez had fallen asleep behind the wheel. His portal gun had run out of charge, and although he wasn’t sober enough to <em>not </em>fly, Rick piloted a shortcut through a less-than-stable wormhole. Hurling himself across the universe on a red-eye warp as he tried to make it back to Earth <em>in time</em> for some <em>stupid human holiday. </em></p><p>He was rushing his way home to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.</p><p>Although Rick wasn’t drunk enough to lie to himself about it, he was sober enough to understand his self-destructive sabotage of crashing his ship into Earth's atmosphere. Stranding himself within the planetary bubble so that he couldn't run away.</p><p>He came to, adding the dizzying throb of a concussion to his already present hangover, and blindly swatted his hand toward the door handle of his ship, jamming it open to tumble out onto the bank of snow in an avalanche of empty beer bottles.</p><p>The Snowbanks of the winter season had probably saved his life. He let out a groan, rubbing his face as he dizzily climbed back into the hatch of his ship to fish out his father’s military-issue duffle bag. He paused his search to shake and sift through a few of the not-completely-empty bottles and nursed the remaining swigs of backwash beer. He'd wanted to arrive sober, but <em>fuck. He could really use some drugs right about now.</em></p><p>Disoriented as his body acclimated to the planet’s gravitational force, Rick rose to his feet and stumbled in place as the world simultaneously moved beneath him and spun around him. At least he’d grown comfortable in colder temperatures. Earth’s<em> Winter Wonderland</em> was nothing compared to the unforgiving sub-zero temperatures of deep-space where he'd nearly frozen his left-nut off against the metal door of his ship.</p><p>The cruel mistress of the void was always the safe-space he knew he could return to.</p><p>But his sense of "Home" had never been tied to a place in time-space.</p><p>Home, had always been a person.</p><p>Rick had initially thought distance would have given them both the new beginnings they needed, but half a decade across the galaxy still hadn’t been far enough away. With the weight of a sun that was beginning to crumble in on itself, the memory of Morty's un-extraordinarily bright smile had left a black-hole burning in Rick’s chest.</p><p>Considering everything Rick believed in (and what believed in him), Rick Sanchez never imagined that he could ever have a <em>Home For The Holidays,</em> but he took in the distinct crunch of snow beneath his weighted uneven stride as he stumbled his way through the quiet cookie-cutter neighborhood, feeling a nostalgic ache pull at the frozen strings of his heart. Awake while the rest of the world slept into early Christmas morning, Rick squinted his bloodshot eyes toward the too-bright blank slate of sky and located the pinhead dot of the sun—crisp and clear against the clouds of his breath.</p><p>The same pale yellow dot had looked entirely different from the depths of space. From there, it was just another star in the endless expanding sky, able to sustain life. From where he stood now, on Earth, the Sun during a winter storm <em>was everything.</em></p><p>The throbbing in his head returned with a vengeance, and Rick quickly turned away from the light source. Instead, he shifted his focus back to the indistinguishable Christmas-themed houses lining the suburban street. Unable to tell them apart, he picked the one with the shittiest light job and stepped up the walkway, hesitating at the door. He allowed his absent gaze to linger on the live pinecone-and-evergreen trimmings of a festive wreath, adorning (what he assumed was) the Smith Residence. The decorative statement was insistent yet unassuming, and Rick squinted his eyes, searching for some kind of visual confirmation that he was in the right place.</p><p>He pressed the palm of his hand against his eye socket trying to remember if this dimension had the actual fascist <em>War on Christmas</em> or if it was more the "Big Coffee" variety. He groaned, neither sober nor drunk enough to remember, and shifted his duffel bag over his shoulder. Fuck it. <em>Traditions were an idiot thing.</em> It wasn’t important.</p><p>What <em>was </em>important, was the tangible and intangible gravity that was his presence<em> just passing through</em> with the fleeting insignificance of a flake of snow. Rick swallowed back the rising alcohol-bile in his throat and shaped his hand into a shaking fist, lifting it against the suburban barrier of everything he’d never truly allowed himself to have. Everything that had always been too easy for him to abandon.</p><p>Self-sabotage. It was what he always did. Before he could knock, the door collapsed away from Rick’s soundless knuckles to reveal a near-stranger smiling on the other side.</p><p>“Grandpa Rick!”</p><p>Rick froze within the spherical hourglass of Earth as the seconds fluttered aimlessly around them in silent white-noise grains of seemingly weightless snow. The reality of time and gravity undistorted itself in the span of a picosecond, and lmited by his own human capacity to fully comprehend it, Rick's thoughts raced through his half-sober mind, leaving him unable to form words as he traveled four years from memory and crashed into the gravity of the present.</p><p>Rick's grip tightened around the strap of his duffel bag as he stabilized himself and breathlessly wobbled. The Morty who had been living in his memory, Rick had realized, had died the day Rick had taken that version of his grandson with the choice to run away from him.</p><p>Now, Rick was left staring at the still-broken pieces of the mess he had left behind.</p><p>The version of Morty who had grown up without him.</p><p>He had grown. If Rick didn’t know what year it was, he might have thought that he was staring into a younger version of himself. Morty still had the stubborn lingering remnants of his teenage twink body, but his face and his expression had grown bony and sharp—rough around the edges. His jawline connected to a fully developed neck, and although Morty stood behind the door with a slight slouch, the crown of the late-teens forehead fell just below Rick’s chin. A sun-kissed spray of freckles had burst their way across his cheeks, and the voice that had come out of Morty's frame was unmistakably the same one that had sent an SOS over the interdimensional-radio, but the physical soundwaves of his presence produced a timbre of sound more rich and vibrant than any radio wave could transmit.</p><p>It was laced with a deeper tone that resembled adulthood.</p><p>“Jeezus...” Rick's too-small heart felt like it was at max-capacity, and he wobbled again, wondering if he might be having a heart attack. “I-I-gotta—wrong house—”</p><p>Morty lifted a fist, and Rick instinctively flinched, waiting and fully expecting to be punched. Instead, a playful jab pressed against Rick’s bicep as Morty closed the remaining distance between them.</p><p>"—Shut the fuck up!" An unexpectedly warm, full-bodied sound poured itself out of Morty's chest, and the young adult broke into cheerful laughter at the sight of his grandfather’s dumbstruck expression. He pulled the older man into a full-bodied hug, nearly tackling him back through the space of the doorway.</p><p>Morty smelled like home, and Rick pressed his nose into the glowing warmth of Morty's shoulder as he buried himself into the still-familiar sensation; what time <em>hadn't</em> taken from him. His presence was better than he allowed himself to remember, and it ached more than Rick had given himself permission to forget.</p><p>Rick realized Morty was wearing Rick's blue sweater. The fuzzy, pilling edges of the threadbare fabric had loosened and unraveled, but in protest of time's ability to unravel, Morty had darned and repaired each and every hole by hand, stitching the well-worn pieces back together with with various off-color shades of blue yarn. With another sudden feeling of overwhelm, Rick pushed Morty away with shaking hands.</p><p>Maybe time hadn't taken <em>enough.</em></p><p>"I didn't know if you…” Morty began but trailed with uncertainty. It wasn’t the same uncertainty, filled with self-doubt, that Rick had remembered. It was more nuanced. It was a tone of uncertainty in consideration of Rick's fragile ego he’d long ago learned to step lightly around. Now, no longer one of fear, Morty's concern was instead warm with empathy as he welcomed Rick back into his life. <em>He didn't know if Rick was going to come home.</em></p><p>Morty shifted the conversation to an easier topic. With a slight blush flushing across his cheeks, He glanced over his shoulder as he led Rick through the layout of the Smith house. Rick stole a glance through the garage door as they made their way to the kitchen discovering that it had been converted into Morty's bedroom.</p><p>Recognizing himself as a guest, Rick set his duffel bag onto the kitchen floor.</p><p>“I waited up all night for you,” Morty continued with his voice at a near whisper, unable to contain the grin that had been plastered on his face since he opened the door. “Didn’t think you'd actually come."</p><p>Morty's cheerful demeanor should not have been some feel-good surprise, but the hardest lesson Morty had learned with Rick seemed to be the first.</p><p>Neither of them had expectations for this moment.</p><p>Still reeling, Rick suddenly called for a moment of time-out. "Shit, sorry, Morty. Yeah, I get it. I'm here. <em>I'm really here.</em> But if we’re gonna do this—Get this over with. Then I-I gotta put some drugs into my system."</p><p>“Want some coffee? <em>Real </em>Coffee?” Morty offered as he reached into the cupboard to reveal a jar of instant Folgers Coffee Crystals and a strategically stored bottle of aspirin. He slid the bottle of drugs across the countertop to Rick, who desperately grabbed for it. The 300 count bottle was almost empty, and Rick's jaw tightened against the pieces of Morty's life that he unwillingly kept putting together. <em>Since when did Morty habitually take aspirin with his morning coffee? </em></p><p>"Folgers,” Rick ignored his own emotions, and instead, questioned Morty's taste.</p><p>“Every morning." Morty proclaimed with pride, "It’s the shittiest part of waking up, but I always make it through.”</p><p>Three generations of inherited choice. Before there was alcohol, there were coffee crystals. It was what Rick's father drank and what Rick had stocked in the back of the ship because in deep-space convenience was more valuable than the shitty taste the instant roast could sear into his pallet and memory: it was always either too-watery or too-strong. A lingering taste of volcanic-soil beans, steeped past the point of no return until their flavor turned acidic. In one word, the memory was bitterness, and there was a certain acquired nostalgic taste to it. A daily addictive test of one's personal limits. A morning ritual of one's will to drink of cup of shit every morning in order to find a way to get high.</p><p>That was all drugs, really, and in an open embrace of the natural deterrent, Morty needed his hard to swallow.</p><p>Unease settled in Rick’s stomach as he caught a glimpse of his own ghost living in his still-haunted grandson.</p><p>Morty spooned generous heaps of crystal into a pair of coffee mugs, and the rock-like grains shimmered with the concentrated promise of their self-medicated shitty life choices. He worked quickly, filling the mugs with tap water, and tossing them both into the microwave on his index finger. Rick fidgeted with the pills in his hand, and unable to wait any longer, and dry-swallowed the headache medicine. Morty caught him out of the corner of his eye and let out a self-aware chuckle.</p><p>"Nothing beats a pick-me-up first thing in the morning, Grandpa Rick. A fresh cup of an addictive drug, like Folgers.”</p><p>Rick rolled his eyes at Morty's marketable phrasing, "What is this, a promo ad?"</p><p>"Nah." Morty pulled the mugs from the microwave with a playful grin, "I wouldn't exploit my grandpa for immoral amounts of advertising dollars.”</p><p>"Uh-huh,” Rick suspiciously glanced around. If it <em>was</em> a promo, it wasn't his.</p><p>Morty pressed the too-hot ceramic mug into Rick’s grasp and their hands briefly touched. In a sudden shift in tone, Morty quickly pulled him body away from Rick as time slowly began to catch up with him too. His eyes nervously settled on Rick’s, as if the young adult had also been afraid to fully take in the presence standing beside him.</p><p>Beth had pleaded for her Rick to never leave her again, but Morty had always been smart enough to know Rick’s promises were as empty and expanding as the universe. Morty wouldn’t ask Rick to stay. Instead, he let a soft, still-shy grin of pleasant surprise pull at the corner of his mouth as he brushed against the miracle of his presence. Recognizing and accepting it for what it was.</p><p>Morty used to anxiously gnaw on his lips until they bled, but the bad habit had somehow matured into an embarrassed single sensual bite of his bottom lip. Rick caught a glimpse of the teenager he used to know. The personality was still present, but now, Morty wore the controlled nervousness well and Rick swallowed at the sight of Morty's sudden rush of embarrassed confidence.</p><p>"Oh Jeez," Morty's blushed into his freckled cheeks and shyly stared into his own mug with a heartfelt smile of disbelief. "It's really you."</p><p>“I thought you hated this shit,” Rick nervously deflected, “Y'know. This brand of coffee's been around as long as I have.”</p><p>Morty <em>had </em>hated it. Morty had hated <em>him</em>.</p><p>The young adult dismissively laughed in remembrance, “Yeah, acquired taste, I guess. The regular stuff's too rich." He paused taking a sip. "Somewhere along our adventures, I guess I picked up a taste for shit that raises my blood pressure and elevates my stress. Never thought stimulants would be my go-to either."</p><p>Rick was simultaneously relieved and angered that his absence had not entirely broken Morty.</p><p>He drank the bitter morning beverage, and the wet cigarette flavor hit his tongue, tasting like liquid ash in his mouth. Rick forced himself to swallow it down because he had nothing useful to say. Morty's entire body language was...unextraordinarally comfortable. He spoke openly about himself with such effortless ease that it made Rick feel indescribably small and insecure in comparison. Morty had become a fully functioning adult without him.</p><p>He <em>hadn't</em> needed Rick. He'd <em>never</em> needed him.</p><p>Rick returned his gaze to the black hole of his half-full mug. Being back on Earth was causing Rick to remember more than had wanted to. He turned toward the garage. Remembering in greater detail the place where their hot and sweaty bodies secretly pressed against each other beneath the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. He remembered the taste of their desperate open-mouthed kisses, the feel of Morty's naked body moaning quietly beneath him. The smell of himself. Sober enough to stop, but not sober enough to care.</p><p>The near-perfect stranger staring back at him understood the memories percolating in Rick's thoughts, and suddenly embarrassed by his unapologetically knowing gaze, Rick evasively turned himself toward the window and studied the falling seconds of snow. He reached for the contents of his flask, opening the metallic bottle to pour a few shots into the <em>"big hug mug" </em>and balance out its effects. Morty lifted a non-judgemental eyebrow as he drew attention to old habits.</p><p>“Speedballing?”</p><p>“Tis the season, Morty.”</p><p>The young adult shrugged, pushing his mug across the counter in expectation, and for a moment, Rick was unsure of how to respond. Morty recognized his internal dilemma and rolled his eyes.</p><p>“I’m not a kid anymore, Rick. 'N' besides, our whole…" Morty searched, unable to encapsulate their entire history into a single word before giving up, "Just us. <em>What a fucking</em> speedball.”</p><p>Rick frowned, pouring a shot into Morty’s mug acknowledging the adult's right to his own choices. It wasn’t like Rick could show up now, after five years to tell Morty how to live his life. Rick was too little too late. He only had memories to remind Morty of how bad of an influence he’d been on the teen.</p><p>“Remember the year where everyone’s Christmas presents were stolen?" Rick suddenly confessed, "I needed drug money.”</p><p>“Oh,<em> we knew." </em>Morty rolled his eyes at Rick's predictable temper tantrum, "You were never as smart as you thought you were, Grandpa Rick.”</p><p>“H-how bout the year I mixed fractal dust and snocaine and stumbled around the living room blitzed out of my mind with the anti-matter gun I had meant to give to you?”</p><p>“Still have it." Morty beamed, "The latch on the bunker door where we hid, still isn’t the same.”</p><p>“I’m such a shitty Grandfather.”</p><p>“Maybe I should have asked for a real grandparent this year." Morty let out an empathetic, forgiving laugh to diffuse the tension Rick was trying to create between them. With nothing to hold over his grandson who had chosen to no longer hold a grudge, Rick let out a sigh full of stress. He didn't know how to deal with this shit. It was a trauma-bonded Christmas miracle that they were able to enjoy the overall effect of their shitty memories together. Rick was grateful that despite everything, Morty had come into his own. Distinct and terrible-tasting as the chaos of the Smith household had been, the memories lingered with notes that carried a hint of nostalgia in their undertones</p><p>Whatever the feeling was. It was theirs.</p><p>“Shitty fucking Christmas memories.” Rick reminisced their taste with a betraying grin, and Morty couldn’t help but tease him in acknowledgment.</p><p>“So why are we smiling then?”</p><p>Rick recognized that in the short time Morty had to take care of himself in the dysfunctional household, he had grown as sharp as he was blunt. Rick felt far more exposed conversing with this version of his grandson because he was interacting with a version of Morty who <em>really </em>wasn't going to put up with his shit by now. This version of Morty had been able to figure out how to track Rick down, just so he could invite him home for the holidays.</p><p>"How'd you get a hold of me?”</p><p>Morty’s body tensed. He looked guilty for a moment, breaking his gaze from Rick before sudden bitter-tasting words spilled from his evasive lips.</p><p>“Well," Morty deliberated, knowing Rick wasn't going to like his answer, "You left a lot of your shit here."</p><p><em>"You kept it?"</em> Rick spilled his thoughts with honest shock before his eyes narrowed in realization, "You learned <em>how to use it?</em>"</p><p>"I guess..." Morty corrected, "I mean, I learned how to use it <em>enough,</em> I was never as smart as… but I've always had pretty good memories. You probably could've done it in five minutes."</p><p>Morty carefully took a sip of coffee, avoiding Rick's gaze as the older man realized that Morty been trying to discover a way to find him for five years. He had probably moved himself into the garage to protect everything it had meant to him from his family.</p><p>"I couldn’t get rid of it." Morty defended, "Didn’t even know what half of it was—if it was hazardous or... If you were ever gonna come back for it.”</p><p>"Morty." Rick cut to the chase, wanting to get this over with, "Why'd you want me to come back?"</p><p>Morty's expression softened and he reached for a small box on the countertop, not giving the smartest man in the universe answers as he presented it to him. The box was empty because although Morty hadn't wanted to get his hopes up, he still allowed himself to hope.</p><p>"Because I missed you."</p><p>Morty plucked the bow from the box, setting his mug aside as he approached Rick and stood nearly at his eye-level. Rick stared hard at the red bow in Morty’s careful hand, and the young adult pressed it into Rick's chest, making visible the shape of his too-small heart.</p><p>"I wanted to see you, again."</p><p>That was all Morty had allowed himself to want. Morty’s cheeks flushed as he mulled something over in the darkness of a mind Rick no longer had the insight to, but suddenly, he returned his gaze to Rick’s and asserted himself, wrapping his arms around Rick's body, and pulling him into another warm hug as he breathed quiet and deep.</p><p>They embraced, and their entire universe was muted by the momentary blanket of surrounding snow.</p><p>"Morty…” Rick spoke into the muffled blue threads of a blue sweater that was no longer his, as Morty pulled on his heartstrings as he threaded the past and present back together with a well-worn touch of their lips. The atmosphere around them shifted, and Morty suddenly pressed Rick against the countertop and spoke his wish into the older man's ear. "You're my present this year."</p><p>"Yeah, <em>real</em> Hallmark Origin—"</p><p>Morty swallowed Rick’s words, pressing their bodies together again, closing the distance between them. Rick should have known that Morty had picked up more from Rick than the shit that he thought were bad influences.</p><p><em>“And fuck,</em> I'm gonna enjoy it.” The young adult's voice darkened with lust, and Rick swore as he realized that Morty’s hands were already fumbling the clasp of his belt. He dropped the khakis to the floor and just as quickly reached for the older man’s hips, hoisting him onto the kitchen counter.</p><p>Rick's dick twitched seeing that Morty had somehow developed enough of a sense of selfishness to go after what he wanted, and something ached in Rick’s chest. Morty had become rough around the edges, but he still had a heart of gold. And most importantly, Morty hadn’t turned into a total Jerry. Morty interrupted Rick's thoughts, taking a bite from the nape of his neck.</p><p>"—Ow! Dammit, Morty!"</p><p>Morty paused to push the hair out of his face and reached for the coffee mug for a quick sip as the knowing shit-eating grin he'd inherited spilled from lips hidden behind the mug. His gleeful eyes flicked down to Rick’s half-chub, and Rick blushed under his humiliating tease.<em> So what if he liked a little bit of pain.</em></p><p>They kissed again, and Morty pressed a desperate, bitter tongue into Rick's body before sliding down its length. He dragged his hands over Rick's thighs and pried the older man's body apart at the knees. Rick burned in embarrassment at being so self-indulgently manhandled and was suddenly unsure if he really enjoyed seeing so much of himself in Morty’s sex life.</p><p>"Careful, Morty,” Rick warned. “This coffee gives me the shits."</p><p>"Wouldn't be the first time I had to put up with your shit." Undeterred, Morty lifted Rick’s legs and mouthed along their bony length, scratching the surface of Rick's skin with the barest hint of stubble. Not wasting time, he took Rick’s erection into the wet heat of his mouth, and Rick’s hands reactively found their way to the thick strands of Morty’s chestnut hair, bucking into the feeling of a tongue that was burning a few degrees hotter than normal.</p><p>"Fuck, <em>this </em>is the best part of waking up, Morty" Rick groaned as Morty sucked him off while roasting his nuts with the glow of a still-warm coffee-mug hand.</p><p>"What? Incest in your cup?" Morty popped off his dick to ask, and Rick was only capable of drooling out a reply in answer. Morty returned himself to Rick’s height and rocked himself against the body of his grandfather, impatiently kissed at his neck.</p><p>"Fuck yeah. Incest, Morty." Rick licked his lips as he watched Morty push his pants down to his thighs, revealing a fully erect and developed penis, "It's good to the last drop!”</p><p>"Oh yeah, Grandpa Rick," Morty hiked Rick’s knee over his shoulder, and spit a coffee-colored wad of saliva into the palm of his hand, "It's got a flavor all it's own.”</p><p>Morty indulgently slapped Rick’s thigh with his wet hand and slicked himself up before dragging Rick's geriatric ass to the edge of the counter and plunging himself balls-deep into the older man. Rick swore into the sudden thrusting motion, clawing at Morty’s sweater as the young adult immediately began to fuck into him. Pinned against the edge of the kitchen counter, with his feet in the air as Morty picked up the pace, Rick felt the desperate way that his grandson's fingers bruised into the older man’s hips. Morty was holding him in place as if the boy had instinctually known the thoughts of running away already spinning out in Rick’s mind.</p><p>Their bodies jerked into another sharp thrust, and Rick swore again to find Morty’s eyes deadlocked onto his expression. </p><p>“Wake up, old man." Morty grinned as he wrapped his hand around Rick’s cock and gently pumped it. Using his free hand, Morty folded his thumb into Rick's mouth, enjoying the sight of Rick choking on him. He growled at the little shit, before getting a mouthful of Morty in the shape of another thrust. Frustrated, Rick mumbled his muffled thoughts to Morty through his moans knowing he wasn’t going to last long with Morty thirsting after his dick like this. <em>But fuck</em> if Rick didn't like Morty young, dumb, and orbiting the sun.</p><p>It had been too long since Rick had been railed and manhandled by some himbo, and Morty groaned in appreciation of every flex of Rick's muscle around his cock. He continued to thrust his hips into him in sharp slapping bursts, <em>knowing</em> it was how Rick he had been aching to be fucked since their hands had brushed against each other. Rick knew it was exactly the way Morty had liked to fuck him.</p><p>“Oh Jeezus, Grandpa Rick.” Morty released a shuddering groan, and Rick's erection twitched at the noticeable change of how vocal his grandson had become. Morty wrapped his hands around Rick's biceps as he continued to pound his way back into his grandfather’s heart. Rick’s beans were about to explode.</p><p>“Fuck, Morty,” Rick chocked out, feeling his tailbone start to ache over the aspirin Morty had strategically given him, “—I'm—I'm gonna!—”</p><p>“Morty!” A light flicked on in the background behind them, and an annoyingly familiar, angry voice burst into the kitchen, before climbing another panicked decibel at what he'd found, <em>“Rick!”</em></p><p>Morty paid no attention to the distraction and ignored the frantic voice of his father as he continued to give Rick his undivided attention. Their gyrating bodies spilled the coffee as the remainder of the Smith family made their way to the current source of family drama.<em> Like flies to shit.</em></p><p>Morty lifted a pair of conspiratorial eyes to Rick, framed by a traditional shit-eating grin and the combination of family-values-exhibitionism and his grandson’s unapologetically cocky attitude sent Rick over the edge. His jizz snowed everywhere from his flailing erection as Morty held Rick's arms in place and mercilessly continued to thrust into him.</p><p>Against the backdrop of Jerry's hysterical shouting, Morty creamed Rick’s ass with an unapologetically shameless groan, and let his forehead fall against Rick's chest to catch his breath.</p><p>A broom handle interrupted their afterglow, as Jerry prodded it between them in an attempt to pry their bodies apart. Rick’s brow furrowed in renewed frustration as he swatted at the nuisance but immediately broke into a laugh as he took in the sight of Morty’s<em> very worn-down father</em>. It looked like the last five years had been hard on him too.</p><p>“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, Jerry.”</p><p>Rick reached for the unspilled mug of coffee, downing it before he had to deal with Christmas morning in the dysfunctional Smith household. As strong as Morty had made their coffee, it still wasn’t gonna be enough to mask the flavor of fucking his grandson out of the morning.</p><p>“See!” Jerry turned to Beth in exasperation. It was another Christmas miracle entirely that <em>they</em> were still together, “I told you I smelled <em>his shit</em> in this house again! He’s back!”</p><p>Morty carried on with his morning, tucking himself back into his pants at his own pace, stealing a quick glance at the pool of his own jizz still dripping out of his grandfather’s ass. Rick motioned to grab his pants, but Beth interrupted him, fully intending to shame his exposed ass to a family that really didn’t wanna see any more of it.</p><p>“Look, Rick, we knew what was going on between you and Morty. But really?<em> On Christmas, Dad?”</em></p><p>“Grandparents and grandchildren are<em> not supposed to do that!”</em> Jerry insisted but was left entirely unheard.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, sweetie.” Rick hopped off the counter to snatch his pants from the floor, beginning to remember why he’d left all over again. “Of all the <em>worst things</em> I could have done, <em>ruining Christmas</em> is right up there. Top of the list.”</p><p>“Mom, what’s going on? What did Morty—” Summer emerged into the kitchen, took one look at the scene, and despite not having seen <em>Grandpa Rick</em> in years carried on as if she’d been living with him regardless. “—Oh, hey Grandpa Rick.”</p><p>She pushed her way around Morty, trying to make her own path to a morning cup of coffee, and Rick grinned as he reconsidered his thoughts. Maybe she <em>had</em> been living with a slightly different version of him.</p><p>“Rick! <em>You need to leave,</em>” Jerry stammered, still holding his broom in an attempt to stand his ground. Beth brushed him aside, happy to see her father showing up in the house again. Instead, she turned her focus on Morty, and Rick immediately saw the outlet for abuse she had tried to make him into.</p><p>“And you, Morty! What's all this all about!?” Rick was suddenly piecing together Morty's change in personality.</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” Morty clapped back as Summer handed her brother a fresh cup of coffee in solidarity. Morty took a drink, grinning at his sentimental sense of humor as he nodded toward the brightly colored bow still catching the light on Rick’s chest. He couldn't have made it any more obvious.</p><p>“He’s my present this year,” Morty made it obvious enough for even Jerry to understand.</p><p>“—Jeezus christ” Jerry swore into the room, and Rick’s stomach gave a loud rumble. Something uneasy was brewing well in his seventy-plus-year-old stomach. Maybe he was falling in love.</p><p>Beth’s mouth fell open at Morty’s straightforward answer, and Rick rolled his eyes. She was only shocked that her tactics had stopped working on Morty. Beth pivoted back to Rick, searching for another target, and glared at him, wait for a better explanation than the one Morty had given.</p><p>“Beth. Listen to your father," Rick shrugged, doubling down on Morty’s answer. "I’m fucking your son.”</p><p>“This is unbelievable! Christmas is ruined!” Beth reeled, throwing up her hands before intermittently pointing an accusing finger between Rick and Morty, “Christmas is ruined, and I hope you’re happy!”</p><p>“Oh, <em>I am.”</em> Rick gave a saucy wink to Morty as he hunched over to put his pants back on, and seizing the invitation, Morty slapped his non-existent ass with a grin. Rick's stomach suddenly percolated again at the excitement, but the shit-eating grin fell from Rick's face when realized the tell-tale sign of his irritable geriatric bowels.</p><p>“Shit.” Full circle from the pilot, Rick held onto his stomach and looked to Morty in his final moments as his body involuntarily spilled the beans. Rick's knees trembled and he braced himself against the kitchen counter as a carafe of coffee-shits poured out of his ass, sending the entire Smith family out of his business in record time.</p><p>Everyone except Morty.</p><p>“Oh, Jeez, Grandpa Rick” Morty helplessly watched his grandfather with an expression of existential horror, as he learned what time could do to a man. Maybe there were still adventures left for them after all. Rick waited until his body stabilized and he let out a long-beleaguered sigh of relief. The movement was over and he tossed his pants back onto the counter wiping the sweat from his brow.</p><p>In the awkward silence, he reached for the dish towel and tried his best to clean himself up.</p><p>“Shit just goes right through me at this age.” He furrowed his brow in sudden embarrassment, but Morty played it off with a laugh, reaching for a mop to join him. <em>Rick had warned him after all.</em></p><p>“Too many mega seeds.” Morty offered to lighten the mood, and Rick chuckled at yet another shitty memory. Having learned nothing, Rick reached for Summer’s abandoned mug of coffee and, like a dog returning to the vomit of his ass, took a gulp.</p><p>“I’ll try to keep it in my pants next time.” He apologized, suddenly remembering Morty's promo. “Is planet promos still gonna pay you for this shit?”</p><p>Morty shrugged, lifting his own mug to press it against Rick’s own.</p><p>“If it tastes as good as it smells." The Christmas clink of their ceramic mugs left Morty with another shit-eating grin. Demonetized or not, Morty had enjoyed <em>selling Rick out</em> for a change. He cradled the warmth of the mug against his chest trading Rick for the mop.</p><p>"Tastes like cumming home for the holidays."</p><p> </p><p>❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄   ❄</p><p> </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had a lot of fun with this one. Drop a Kudo/Comment if you did too. Merry Ricksmas, Rick &amp; Morty Fandom!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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